


Hands and Hearts

by morphaileffect



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, Gen Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/morphaileffect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for aggy on her birthday - 25 oct 2008</p>
    </blockquote>





	Hands and Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> for aggy on her birthday - 25 oct 2008

What is beautiful to a man who works with gears, wires, metal scraps and numbers, who has no time for a social life and barely understands the need for it?

Spanner often asked himself that question.

He had never felt lonely in his life. There was always so much to do, so much to make better and so many ideas to give shape to. What if this algorithm was better suited to this module? Or if this combination of gears, wires, metal scraps and numbers could be improved by adding this program, or that function?

And when he was done, he stepped back and looked at his creations - the Moscas, the transport vehicles, the guns. All bore his mark, were filled with his knowledge and energy and time.

He asked himself: Was this beautiful?

* * *

Once, as very young men, Spanner and Irie discussed the concept of a mechanical heart.

As with all their discussions, they almost immediately found something to disagree on.

"It should be an enhancement, not a replacement," Spanner said coolly. He was always cool. It was nothing to him if Irie blew a gasket or not. "The heart will still be there - the device will only serve to regulate the existing pressure based on need."

"Another enhancement," Irie sniffed. "Enhancements are inferior, Spanner. You know  _why_  we even have cybernetics? It's so machines can take the place of inefficient objects. Like hands and hearts."

Hands and hearts? Spanner frowned. "You do realize that it's human hands and hearts that  _create_  things to begin with?"

Irie smiled wryly. "You're not an artist. Stop sounding like one."

But Spanner  _was_  an artist. Perhaps Irie didn't notice, or he did but he didn't acknowledge it. To Irie, it was beneficial (or is the correct word "comforting"?) to keep seeing Spanner as a grunt, not as an inventor - someone whose entire existence depended on how well he could use his hands.

And like Irie, Spanner sought elegance. He might lack ambition as an inventor, might not seek glory or fame, but his passion for streamlining his output rivaled Irie's.

(Why replace something that works perfectly, if you can simply enhance it? Spanner asked. What's the point of keeping something around if you can install an improved version in its place? Irie asked him back.)

Spanner was not a conqueror. He had no vendettas. He asked himself useless questions and busied himself with trivial details... all tendencies which would keep him locked up in an underground garage forever, Irie was sure.

* * *

Spanner heard that the Vongola Tenth was everywhere. He had even attended the big robotics conference in Stockholm in '13, as a private (and of course, unlisted) sponsor. But Spanner was not present at the Stockholm '13 conference, so he missed his chance at meeting the man in the flesh.

It was said that the Vongola Tenth's cape got caught in a demo rotor, he got thrown about the exhibit area and some of his guardians had to band together to save him. It was legendary.

Spanner had also heard that the Vongola Tenth had stopped a civil war in a small Asian country, first by wiping out the private armies employed by the mafia heads of the region, then by calling the heads of the families involved for a truce. It was said he himself had torn down a weapons factory with the strength granted to him by his Vongola blood.

For Spanner, who was not known as an artist or a conqueror, the Vongola Tenth was the ultimate human being.  _He felt for others, and he made things happen with his own two hands._

But Spanner had never seen the Vongola Tenth. So he made up the Vongola Tenth in his mind. He had always been an unabashed  _otaku_ , but he could confidently say it wasn't until he learned about the Vongola that his love for all things Japanese reached its height. For the Tenth was Japanese - it was an essential part of his being.

 _Hajimemashite. Spanner to iimasu, Vongole Juudaime-san. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu._

Spanner often played with the idea of offering his services to the magnificent Tenth - stepping out of his dreams and getting into his car, as it were - but Spanner felt he was too young, there was still so much to learn. He might not yet be a master inventor like Giannini, whose almost magical creations fueled the dreams of young robotics engineers, but he had his own ideas.

He could, for example, create a new and improved version of the famed X Gloves, which would give the Tenth more strength than he had ever wielded. He could create special goggles (or would contact lenses be more appropriate?) which would help the Vongola Tenth better plot his course around his enemies. Or! He could create a cape that would never snag on anything. In fact, he had already started researching on that...

But time passed.

And one day Spanner heard that the Vongola Tenth was dead.

He did not know how to feel. His hands fell still. He looked at the incomplete gloves and other devices he had begun to develop exclusively for the Vongola Tenth's use.

There were suddenly no more dreams to step out of.

* * *

And then they met.

Spanner raised an eyebrow at the cute boy sitting on his bed (handcuffed to the heater), blinking up at him.

 _So, Spanner, remember all those times you dreamed about how a man like the Vongola Tenth could ever need your skills?_  A roll of the tongue, and the lollipop stick protruding from his lower lip pointed in another direction.  _Well, wake up, kid. He's NOT dead, he's right in front of you and boy, does he need your skills._

It made sense to him, in a twisted way, that the Vongola Tenth would be a  _child_  with a default "klutz" setting. Vongola blood in repose would have to be outstanding in some form, and even if it were unusually stupid it would be logical.

Spanner didn't mind if his vision of the Tenth was shattered; he had no right building the man up in his mind to be some sort of god anyway.

Although he had imagined the Tenth would be a little... taller.

It wasn't as if Spanner had been keeping those gloves and contacts around because he was using them; he'd only finished them because he had set a deadline for himself and he  _always_  finished things on time, as a matter of personal policy. The Vongola Tenth accepted his offerings - and before Spanner's bewildered eyes the little klutz transformed into a thing of terrifying grace, moving through air more swiftly, more efficiently than any of his creations.

The power of machine amplifying the power of man.

Spanner watched him go - his masterpiece, this angel, propelled by the wings  _he_  had made, striking down the enemy with the hands  _he_ had fashioned - and there was an ache in his chest.

He was suddenly very, very aware that he was lonely. Had been lonely all those years.

Spanner asked himself: was this beautiful?

The thing that hurt the most in him replied: No. This was perfect.


End file.
